


The Prophecy Song

by Renmiri



Series: Nimue [1]
Category: Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum | Ecclesiastical History of the English People - Bede
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renmiri/pseuds/Renmiri
Summary: Bee was a 5-year-old girl growing up as a druid's apprentice on the island of Mona, now Anglesey, 3,000 years ago. Her mother, a powerful seer. had been forced into sacrificing herself, after predicting a dire fate. To prevent the fate she saw from becoming true, the village elders had ordered that she'd be buried alive under a tree,  leaving Bee an orphan, with the condition they spared her daughter. But when Bee got gifted with the skill to sing the happenings still to come, in a voice so pure no one could resist, she attracted the attention and fear of the same people who had sacrificed her mother. Can Bee survive them and protect the British isles from the dire fates she herself sang predicting?
Series: Nimue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664485





	1. Chapter 1

With 1,000 years to go before Cesar entered the British Islands, druids were at the height of their power, protecting the groves and forests of the islands and influencing the lives and beliefs of a large part of the continent too. Bee’s village was a druid gathering in the heart of druid territory on the island of Mona, with many wise wizards and magicians having been born there or teaching there. Young children came from all over, even from the continent, to apprentice with the village druids, with their bards or with the banduri, the female druids dedicated to the healing arts.

Beatha, Bee for short, wasn’t the only child apprenticing with the banduri but she was the one who had started the earliest. Bee was born in the village and immediately given to her teacher, to be a druid’s apprentice from birth. Her mother had been chosen to join the forest, and had, right after delivering Bee, leaving Bee alone. Raised by the stern, elder healer, Bee didn’t get much warmth but she got to learn potion-making. At 5 years old, she knew she was expected to do her chores and her best outcome was to be ignored in return.

Today Bee had been told to wait for herbs the older apprentices would bring from the forest at dawn so she was up before sunrise. When the older kid deposited a folded white mantle at her table, Bee grabbed the bunch of mistletoe leaves wrapped inside it. They felt smooth in her tiny hands, smooth and leathery. The stems were golden and each branch ended into more branches. There were so many leaves! Bee’s fingers ached as she smashed them and tore little pieces as instructed by her teacher. She kept at it, itching to scratch her eyes and nose but unable to do so lest the juice from the leaves got into her face. She only stopped when the whole bunch had been reduced to a pile of tiny pieces. 

Her teacher rinsed Bee’s hands with water from a flask, adding the rinse water to the leaf pile. While Bee ate some berries her teacher used mortar and pestle to grind the leaf bits and water into a potion for fertility, which she stored on a vial with an ornate handle, incanting a spell to increase its potency. Still hungry, Bee eyed the cooking porridge with a greedy look but her teacher ignored it and took her to join the other kids going to the forest to gather food. While foraging Bee tried to sneak some berries into her mouth when no one was looking but the girls were always looking! She bit into some raw leaks but they tasted foul, they belonged in a stew. Bee sighed as her stomach grumbled. 

As if listening to her stomach, a raven flew out of one the bushes right at Bee’s friend Brienne, startling the girl into dropping a piece of bread on the leaf-covered floor. Brienne refused to pick up the bread so Bee gobbled it promptly. She was so hungry! And tired. At the service of the banduri, the female druid, Bee never had time to play like a regular 5-year-old. Every kid in the village had to forage in the forest, but only Bee had no home to go to. She slept at her teacher’s shed, among potions, herbs, antlers and other things that made scary shades on the walls. Not on a bed with a loving parent nearby, ready to soothe a bad dream. 

Bee felt a pang of pain at the thought of having no real home and touched the bark of the nearest tree. A soothing feeling suffused her, just as she expected. She felt warm and protected, she imagined a hug from her mom would feel like that. The forest was the only place where she felt cared for. The human village was fraught with flashes of anger and reproach and so many vivid emotions! It was exhausting, much more than her chores. Bee wished she could just stay in the cool, serene forest. Forever. “Not forever daughter, our world will need you,” said a voice in her head. Bee jumped and looked around seeing nothing, but she thought she heard a poignant sound, almost a song, on the noise the wind made going through the trees.

Later that day Bee tried to remember the song she had heard in the forest and started humming it to herself. To her surprise, her teacher asked her to repeat it and took Bee to sing it in front of the village bard. The man was impressed and decided to give her singing lessons. Things improved a bit for Bee as her voice started developing and being noticed. She was chosen to sing for the elders and for village gatherings, which reduced her hours cutting herbs and foraging. Little by little, she spent more hours studying singing and less in her healers' apprenticeship. Her hands had no cuts and nicks anymore. And since now Bee was invited to sing at any banquet she managed to eat a lot better. And dress better too, as she was expected to be a representative of her village.

Life seemed easier for Bee now that she was a singer but she missed her time in the forest, exploring and gathering truffles, nuts, and berries. She seemed to never find time for it though and every time she tried to go into the forest it seemed her banduri had an urgent chore for her. One way or another, Bee was kept around the village and barred from going deep into the forest until she was 12. That year she managed to dodge a tedious cantata rehearsal, running into the forest as far as she could. She wasn’t afraid. No village kid got lost in the forest, they could touch any moss and immediately see a mental map of where they were. Bee’s mental map today was different though. It had some golden markings pointing her in the direction of the most ancient grove in the forest. Bee felt drawn to it like being called by someone but at this moment she was called by her teacher who pulled her by the arm back to the village, refusing to let Bee go back into the forest.

In the years that passed Bee tried to find that spot but she could never go deep into the forest without someone pulling her back into the village until she was 15 and managed to elude her teachers. As soon as she was alone Bee saw the golden trail marked on the forest map in her head. Following it before anyone tried to divert her, Bee got to the ancient grove marked by the golden threads. As she reached the ancient grove Bee gasped. On a thick canopy with impossibly ancient oak trees, there was a rowan tree at the center, it’s trunk at the base showing a human silhouette, from the torso up. Bee had a mental image of the rest of the body among the rowan’s roots, and of the silhouette transforming itself into a beautiful woman that seemed to be inside the rowan trunk.

“Hello daughter,” said the woman smiling.

“Daughter? Are you...” asked Bee. 

“Yes, I’m your mother, I gave birth to you 15 years ago, before I was transformed into the heart of the grove. Surely they told you that!” said the woman

Bee looked at the tree and the woman inside it. She knew her mother had given herself to the forest, but not what that meant. Or why. Which to Bee was a lot more important

“Why? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me all alone ?” asked Bee in tears

“I had no choice in it. I saw a future no one wants. The village elders thought that by giving me to the forest they can avoid it” said her mother sadly

“I did have a choice on having you. I told them I would not serve the forest unless they allowed you to be born and cared for you. And made them swear you would not be given to the forest like me. Even if they do, the forest gave me its word, it will not take you. You shall be free, unlike me” said the Rowan woman

“They have cared for me, but not gladly. Everyone treats me like I’m some kind of traitor,” said Bee

“Doesn’t your song help? No one can hear it and say no to you” said her mother

“That song from the forest…. It was you! Yes, that helped a bit but now they never let me get close to the forest. It’s like they know you are watching” said Bee

“They do. But they can’t keep us apart forever. We will be joined soon daughter” said the Rowan tree

“You said I can’t stay on the forest forever…” said Bee 

“You can’t but we have almost 1,000 years to be together. Alas I will have to leave you after that and you will have to carry on my mission to protect our world and the forest” said the Rowan tree

“What do you mean? 1,000 years? Will I have to be in a tree, like you? You told me I’m free from it” sulked Bee

“No, not on a tree. You will be able to walk around. There are other ways to serve the forest… the true forest… but first, a lot of our people and ways will die. A great betrayal is coming and the only way to save the true forest is to take it from the ground and put it on your heart, while your two legs carry it to safety” said the Rowan woman

“I don’t understand…” said Bee

“You will… In time…” said the Rowan woman

Bee woke up in her cot at the potions shed. Her teacher eyed her coldly and asked what Bee's mother told her. Bee recounted the meeting, leaving out the part about future dead druids. Her teacher seemed to be satisfied. But when Bee mentioned that her mother mentioned she would be free from giving herself to the forest her teacher smiled.

“Yes your mother thought she bested us, but she didn’t,” said Bee’s teacher smiling

“What do you mean ?” asked Bee

“Your fate has been chosen. It was so when you were born, and keeps on being so” said the banduri

“But you can’t force me to give myself to the forest, the forest won’t accept it, mom told me it won’t,” said Bee

“Your family has always been tied to the forests around here. But there are other forests. Ever since you sang this forest’s song, we knew we had to look elsewhere for guidance” said the banduri

“The song ?” asked Bee

“When you turn 17 you will sing for Samhain. Inside a wicker man. Your voice will be a sacrifice worthy of the gods” said the banduri

“But… You will burn me alive! There must be another way” said Bee

“Do you deny you sing better than anyone? Should we kill another girl and offend the gods just because of your cowardice ?” asked the banduri

“You shouldn’t kill anyone!” said Bee

“Now you know better than the gods? You and your mother make our forest weak. You have been given the honor to serve our people. Do it bravely or I’ll kill you myself” said the banduri disgusted

From then on Bee was watched at all hours making her unable to escape. Not that there was anywhere to escape to. Bee had been unable to find her mother’s grove again. The forest near the village felt different, angry, and dangerous. Strange druids started coming into the village. Bee saw blood on the altars for the forest gods. The moss on the trees near the village now felt dead to Bee’s fingers and touching it didn’t make her feel good any longer. A crazed boar gored one of the village’s hunters. Kids didn't forage in the forest anymore after that. The harmony her people had felt on the wood for centuries was gone. 

The elders in the village agreed to Bee’s sacrifice at Samhain when she reached 17. Bee herself was almost convinced that nothing else would restore harmony to the forest. If someone had to die, why not her, the one without family and friends? She was the one who the gods had bestowed a gift, marking her for sacrifice, said her teachers. How could Bee disagree? It felt wrong and she didn’t want to die but something needed to be done, something was killing the forest. If her sacrifice could stop it...

On the night of Samhain Bee was tied to a wicker frame, which was itself wrapped in grasses and dry kindling dipped in oil. The whole structure was designed to explode in a fiery ball that would burn for hours. Bee was told to sing while the village had its banquet, her fiery death scheduled for the grand finale. As she sang Bee felt power surging into her from the branches used as kindling, from the soil, from everything around her. She directed that power to her song, not knowing what she was singing, making herself a tool for the forest to sing through her. The song poured out of Bee like water, making everyone who listened to it weep. The forest song told of tragedy and death, of crumbling hope and loss, of dead dreams and of a long time of weakness and despair, coming to the isles. 

As midnight approached most listeners wept with their heads in their hands. Except for the young men in the village who stood up enraptured in the song, as the tragedy of it reached their very soul. At midnight, when the fire was lit the song changed as Bee sang of hard-won victories and a strength earned at dire cost, of a siege by numerous enemies and a fragile peace secured at the tip of swords, swords and people forged by duress into an undefeatable force. At hearing that the village’s young men threw themselves into the fire, braving danger to service their queen as they would do many times in the future. As they burned Bee appeared at the center table, unharmed, again singing about tragedy and loss. Her banduri jumped at her and buried a knife into Bee’s throat to stop her singing which was pulling their young men to their deaths. A wounded, dying Bee disappeared from the village while people tried to contain the fire that was now spreading to the houses and the trees surrounding the village.

Bee appeared at the ancient grove, at the foot of her mother’s Rowan tree, bleeding, her throat slashed, minutes away from death. She felt her mother’s arms around her and prepared herself to die. But a luminous figure - an old man - shining weakly in bluish light came toward her and put her hand on her slashed throat, closing the wound and healing it. He held a large jewel the size of a duck’s egg in a necklace and put it around her neck.

“I’m… alive ?” asked Bee surprised

“You are and will be for a very long time. Forever as long as you keep this jewel near your heart” said the old man

“But how? Why ?” asked Bee

“A very hard time is coming to the islands. You and others will help our world survive” said Bee’s mother

“My song… All that tragedy... All those broken dreams... Is that our future ?” asked Bee

“I’m afraid so. But those long years of hardship will forge a new people, one who will never be defeated” said her mother

“Fat consolation it is for all the dead and the broken!” said Bee

“Our people will suffer, but they will survive, hidden among the ones who defeated us, until the day we take it all back,” said her mom

“Not exactly. You will not take your world back but rather build a new, better world” said the old man

“And I will need you to help bring it about” he added looking at Bee

“You have it. I will help in any way I can. What do I need to do ?” asked Bee

“Right now? You need to let your village die. It is corrupting the forest and is way too early for that” said the old man fading away

“Too early? Did he mean the forest will be corrupted in the future ?” asked Bee

“Alas, it will be, my daughter. And burned to the ground. We talked about that. We will need to protect the true forest, carry it to places far from here so it survives the many fires that will come.” said Bee’s mother

“How do I do that ?” asked Bee

“I don’t know. It is new magic that you will need to create. And you will. But until then you need to hide and heal and practice your skills” said Bee’s mother


	2. Chapter 2

Bee looked at the ancient Rowan tree in front of her. She could see a woman’s silhouette at the base of the trunk and if Bee let herself imagine, she could almost see a woman sitting down on the ground, laying her back against the tree trunk, the tree roots crisscrossing through her legs and arms, tree branches and leaves poking through her hair. The woman was smiling tenderly at Bee. Yes, there was no denying, that tree contained her mother’s soul and her mother was inside the tree, talking to her.

“Do you like dragons? I can make you see a dragon instead of me sitting under a tree” said Bee’s mother

“I like them but I’d rather see you,” said Bee

“That is what I guessed,” said Bee’s mother

“Why dragons ?” asked Bee

“We forest protectors can appear as anything if we want. We usually choose to look like dragons, makes people respect us more” said Bee’s mom

“Fear you more, you mean,” said Bee

“Respect, Fear… close enough. But doesn’t work all the time, doesn’t work with our village anymore” said her mom

“What do you mean ?” asked Bee

“They know who I am, what I am… As a matter of fact, they were the ones who made me a forest protector” said Bee’s mom

“My teacher said you and I made our forest weak. What does she mean?” asked Bee

“You have heard the prophecy, you sang it,” said Bee’s mom

“I did… And they tried to cut my throat to make me stop singing it,” said Bee 

“Does it surprise you that some people will do anything to avoid that fate from coming to pass ?” asked Bee’s mom

“No. I would give anything myself to avoid it” said Bee

“That isn’t how prophecies work. There is nothing you can trade to avoid it. All you can do is hope to survive it. But some people will still try… killing the seers, killing the forest that gives the seers their visions, making alliances with creatures and evils they would have never dreamed of before…” said Bee’s mother

“My teacher mentioned looking for other forests… And something strange is going on in the village this past 2 years” said Bee

“They poured something into the ground… poisoned it. I can’t talk to its trees and roots anymore, neither can the true forest” said Bee’s mother

“The trees are not dead there. But the forest around the village feels… it is silent… the leaves have sap, so they must be alive, but I can’t hear or see anything when I touch it. Neither does any kid, they aren’t being allowed in the forest any longer” said Bee

“Have you seen or felt anything else odd ?” asked Bee’s mother

“Our altars have been covered with blood. The blood smells strange, not like stags blood or boar blood. And some of it… I’ve seen some of the blood in cups near the altar. And smelled it on the strangers that have visited the village” said Bee

“Blood drinkers? Are you sure? This is not good news” said Bee’s mother

“You need to be sure. Bring me one of them here” Bee’d mother added

After her mother taught Bee a song to appear near the village, and another to return to the ancient grove, Bee appeared near the village and set herself atop an oak tree to observe the people coming and going. There were remains of the funeral pyre built to burn the people who died during Samhain and seeing that made Bee wince. She had not wished for nor knowingly enchanted anyone to jump in the fire to rescue her. That Samhain song had passed through her like water through a hollow. She would be more careful with her songs from now on.

Bee wasn’t so lost in her thoughts that she missed the stranger boiling a yellow liquid on a cauldron. The liquid smelled foul and Bee remembered the smell from her days as healer’s apprentice: Sulfur. The stranger was preparing some sulfur concoction, and as bee watched he gave vials of it to people in the village, who went around fumigating trees. Was that the poison her mother had mentioned? Bee decided to bring him to her mother. As soon as the stranger was alone Bee jumped down from her tree and touched him, singing the song which would pull her back to the grove.

Before the stranger could even open his mouth they were in front of the Rowan tree that housed her mother’s spirit. The stranger cursed in a strange language, melodic and different, and tried to grab Bee who had already jumped away from him. He looked at the Rowan tree with terror as a fiery jet came out of it stopping a few inches from his feet, making the stranger stop chasing after Bee. As Bee looked she could see what was terrifying the man: Her mother was gone and at the foot of the tree now there was a large white dragon, smoke coming from its nostrils. The man looked at Bee furiously but didn’t move, lest the dragon burn him

“Is he the blood drinker ?” asked the white dragon, which Bee knew it was her mother in disguise

“I’m not sure but he looked like he was preparing poison for people to throw in the woods,” said Bee

“Tu sei l'assassino della foresta ? Tu bevi sangue ?” asked Bee’s mother to the stranger, in Italian but somehow Bee could understand she was aking if the stranger was the forest killer and drunk blood

“se è l'unico modo per uccidere i draghi” said the stranger shrugging, which chilled Bee to the bone when she realized he wasn’t denying it, he was actually saying “If it’s the only way to kill dragons...”

“anche noi draghi sappiamo come uccidere i nemici” answered Bee’s mother with a growl, the meaning “we dragons know how to kill enemies too” forming easily on Bee’s head as she said it.

At that the stranger threw himself at Bee, who felt the urge to sing, the forest pouring another song into her. Bee hesitated, remembering the last time she had let the forest sing through her, but her mother barked “Sing!” into her mind so she did. As she sang, the man in front of her started shaking, blood pouring from his eyes, mouth and ears, a sticky, old, foul-smelling blood. His flesh which had been very pale now looked bruised as every artery and vein inside it burst. The man fell with a wail into a puddle of his own blood.

“What was THAT ?” asked Bee shaking

“That was the song to kill blood drinkers, you will do well to memorize it,” said her mother

“I don’t want to kill anyone!” said Bee

“You need to kill the ones corrupting the village,” said her mother

“I will not kill anyone else. Too many have died already” said Bee

“If I have to kill them I will have to kill the entire village Bee. You can spare the innocent” said her mother

“How so? You are much more powerful than I am, you are the forest,” said Bee

“I can not get near the poisoned area so I will have to burn everything inside it. You can get in and only sing the song to the ones responsible. Spare the rest” said her mother

“I don’t want my songs to kill people!” cried Bee

“It isn’t the song, the song is harmless… It just helps unlock skills,” said Bee’s mother

“Then teach me to do it without a song. I don’t want my voice to mean death,” said Bee

“Some forest defenders can do whatever they want without singing a single note. Your great grandfather could, but he lived for 700 years. I have just started and still only know a little” said Bee’s mother

“Where is he? Is he dead ?” asked Bee

“Yes. The village burned his tree when he predicted the coming peril” said Bee’s mother

“And buried you under another tree when you repeated his prophecy ?” asked Bee

“Yes even though we predicted it 200 years apart and without ever talking to each other… And so did you 15 years later” said Bee’s mother

“There’s nothing we can do to avoid the prophecy, is there ?” asked Bee sitting on the leaf-covered ground 

“No. But we can make sure our culture and our people survive. It is going to be bad for a long time but things will get better eventually. We can make sure our people are there when it does” said Bee’s mother

“For that, we need to make sure the blood drinkers don’t eradicate druids. They will try and will not stop until they think they succeeded. We need to hide well” said Bee’s mother

“Aren’t we just going to kill them all now ?” asked Bee

“The few of them in our village right now is just an advanced force. Most of them are still south. We need to kill the ones here before they corrupt more of our druids and our forests” said Bee’s mother

“Can’t we just warn our people ?” asked Bee

“What do you think your great grandfather was trying to do 200 years ago? Or me 17 years ago? When faced with such a bitter truth a lot of us will try anything to deny it, including allying themselves with the very enemies that will try to destroy us. No daughter, the time for a warning is passed. We now need to find ways to preserve our ways, without telling anyone that our ways are endangered” said Bee’s mother

After that talk with her mother, Bee went to her village daily, trying to find strangers alone. When she saw one, she sang her killing song. Soon there were hunting parties searching for the missing strangers. There was much shouting when the puddles of blood and gore were found but no one in the village knew what was taking place. At night Bee risked getting into the village and grabbed a few more blood drinkers, which she quickly disposed of in the village outskirts. To Bee and her mother’s concern, some of the blood drinkers were not from the continent but people Bee had grown with. 

But all the deaths and disappearances coupled with the new blood fixation from the remaining residents took its toll and soon people started leaving the “cursed” village. 

In 10 years the village was abandoned. Without the sulfur being fumigated on the village, the forest slowly regained a small foothold on it and in 15 years no one could tell there had been a village there. But people still talked of the village that turned against its forest protector and then had invited strangers into their midst and then been swallowed by the forest, not before having its residents burned or turned into a bloody pulp. This served as a cautionary tale about turning against their ways and inviting strangers.

Bee and her mother knew they would have about 900 years to be together and learn all they could to prepare for the fall of the island so Bee took those centuries to walk around the forest and learn about each and every plant or animal. A disguised Bee tried to take lessons with other druids but after a few decades, they had little to teach her. Bee needed to go on a pilgrimage to meet other forest protectors, which she did in a limited fashion. Knowing she would eventually lose her mother’s company made Bee weary of traveling far. Bee did visit all the British islands and Celtic forests on Gaul as far down as the Pyrenees on France and as far east as Saxony.

In her travels, Bee learned a little of Latin, French, Occitan, German, Spanish, and many other local languages, as well as many other costumes. But she always got back to the island of Mona and her mother’s grove, to share all that she had learned and seen. To her and her mother’s dismay, blood-drinkers were everywhere on the continent and making strides towards getting allies in the islands. The people in the continent were consolidating into large empires and that didn’t bode well for the islands, with their wealth in minerals and people, surely they would be valuable prey for the Roman and Greek or other empires forming around 500 BC. But there was nothing Bee and her mother could do but prepare and wait...

**Author's Note:**

> History tells us what came to pass: the Romans burned the forests in Anglesey (the isle of Mona) and killed most living druids there on 60 AD. A much-awaited rebirth of magic on Albion with King Arthur around 600 AD was short-lived and the cherished dreams of druids and magic coming back died as well. It was only by 1100 AD that the British Isles finally got their rebirth and strength that kept enemies at bay. Forged on the crucible of millennia of battles the islands would never be invaded successfully again. The British ruled over many countries and helped create a new world, but only 1,000 years after the Romans and after the druids were decimated. Nowadays druids are no longer hunted but most of their knowledge is gone. 
> 
> I've always wondered why the Romans had such an easy time burning the druid groves in 60 AD. Surely the same power that reputedly kept the Spanish Armada at bay would have protected the druids from the Romans! And why did all the prophecies about Merlin and Arthur end in failure, with Morgana being able to engineer Arthur's death so young? Why fierce warriors feared across the continent were so easily crushed to death by the Romans on Bodicaea's time?  
> It just seemed like a good place to add a curse or a betrayal. Or both. A betrayal and a curse, 1,000 years before the Romans, causing 2,000 years of defeat and broken dreams but eventually forging formidable warriors that would never get invaded again


End file.
